French's International Copyrighted (in England/ her Col- 
onies, and -the United States) Edition of the 
Works of the Best Authors 

PQ eoe lllltlllll(IIIIMMIIIIIIIIIIiririlllMIIinilllllllllillllllllllllllllllllllllllllMillllllllllllllllllllMMItMIIIIIIIMIIMIIIItlll<_ 

H73814 
Copy 1 



No. 452 



Putting It Across 



A COMEDY IN ONE ACT 



2 
O 

r 
> 

in 

W 

X 

n 

X 

> 
z 

o 
n 
a 



BY 

GEORGE C. HOLLANDER 



Copyright, 1922, by Samuel French 

Amateurs may produce this play without payment of 
royalty. All other rights reserved. 



Price 30 Cents 



NEW YORK 

Samuel French 

Publishei- 

28-30 West 38th Street 



LONDON 

Samuel French, Ltd. 

26 Southampton Street 

Strand 



'iiiuiiiiiniiMiiiuiiMiiiiiiiuiiniuiiniuiiiiiiuiiiMiHiiiiiiiiinMiinMiimiiiiiiHitiiitiiitiiniiiiiiMiiitiimiiiiiiimiiKuiiiuiiiiiiiiim 



The Charm School 

A fascinating- comedy in three acts by Alice Duer Mill^ 
er and Robert Milton. 6 males, 10 females. (May be 
played by 5 males and 8 females). Any number of school 
girls may be used in the ensembles. Scenes, -two inter- 
iors. Costumes, modern. Plays 2V2 hours. 

The story of "The Charm School" is familiar to Mrs. 
Miller's readers. It relates the adventures of a hand- 
some young automobile salesman scarcely ont of his 
'teens who, upon inheriting a girl's boarding school from 
a maiden aunt, insists on running it himself, according-^to 
his own ideas, chief of wliich is, by the -^way, that the 
dominant feature in the education of the young: girl of 
today should be CHARM. 

The situations that arise are teeming with humor — ■ 
clean, wholesome humor. In the end the young man 
gives up the school and promises to wait until the most 
precocious of his pupils reaches a marriageable age. 

"The Charm School" has the freshness of youth, the 
inspiration of an extravagant but novel idea, the charm 
of originality, and the promise of wholesome, sanely 
amusing, pleasant entertainment. We strongly recom- 
mend it for high school production. 

"The Charm School" was first produced at the Bijou 
Theatre, New York, and then toured the country. Two 
companies are now playing it in England. Price, 75 cents. 

Daddy Long- Legs 

A charming comedy in four acts, by Jean Webster. 
The full cast calls for 6 males, 7 females and 6 orphans, 
but the play, by the easy doubling of some of the char- 
acters may be played by 4 males, 4 females and three 
orphans. The orphans appear only in the first act and 
may be played by small girls of any age. Four easy 
interior scenes. Costumes modern. Plays 2i/^ hours. 

The New York Times reviewer, on the morning fol- 
lowing the Broadway production, wrote the following 
comment: 

"If you will take yotir pencil and write down, one be- 
low the other, the words delightful^ charming, sweet, 
beautiful and entertaining, and then draw a line and 
add them up, the answer will be 'Daddy Long-Legs.' 
To that result you might even add brilliant, pathetic 
and humorous, but the answer even then would be just 
What it was before — ^the play which Miss Jean Webster 
has made from her book, 'Daddy Long-Legs,' and which 
was presented at the Gaiety last night. To attempt to 
describe the simplicity and beauty of 'Daddy Long-Legs' 
would be like attempting to describe the first breath of 
Spring after an exceedingly'- tiresome and hard Winter." 

"Daddy Long-Legs" enjoyed a tw^o-years' run in New 
York and was then toured for over three years, and is 
now published in play form for the first time. 

Price, 75 cents. 

(The A1jov<» Are Suliject to Royalty W^hen Produced) 

SAMUEL, FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed 

Fi*ee on Request 



Putting It Across 



A COMEDY IN ONE ACT 



By 
GEORGE C. HOLLANDER 



Copyright, 1923, by Samuel French 
Amateurs may produce this play without payment of royalty. 
. All other rights reserved. 



New York 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

Publisher 

28-30 West 38th Street 



London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 

26 Southampton Street 

STRAND, W. C. 2 






CHARACTERS 



Jack Ainsley, a writer 
Ed Craig, an actor 
Yaki, their valet 
Gus Wesley 
F. PoMEROY Walker 



Place 

The living-room in the bachelor quarters of 
Ainsley and Craig. 



Time 
Afternoon : The present. 



CID 6335:^ 



JAN I I 1923 



M.r> 1 



Putting- It Across 



Scene: A sitting-room. At the right of the room is 
a door leading into the bedroom; at the left a 
window. At the rear, towards the right, is a 
large doorzvay zvith white-curtained French 
doors. When these are open one can see the 
hall into which the doorway leads and which 
contains a hat-rack. The room contains a writ- 
ing-desk, a table and three or more chairs, one 
of which is an easy chair. 

As the curtain rises, Ainsley is found writing at 
his desk. The hall door is open; that to the 
bedroom is closed. The front door slams and a 
moment later Craig appears in the hall, where 
he throws his hat upon the rack. He enters the 
room and crosses to the easy chair. Both Ains- 
ley and Craig are young men between the ages 
of twenty-five and thirty. The former is dressed 
in a dark suit, the latter in a light one. 

Ainsley. (Without looking up from his work) 
Hello, Ed. 

Craig. Hello. (He sits down in the chair; there 
is a short pause) I saw a friend of yours a while 
ago. 

Ainsley. (Without turning around) Who was 
that? 

Craig. Gus Wesley. 

Ainsley. Friend nothing ! I owe him money ! 

5 



6 PUTTING IT ACROSS 

(He pauses, then lays dozsun his pen and turns around 
in his chair to face Cratg.J I say, did he mention 
the fact? 

Craig. No, but he will in about fifteen minutes. 

AiNSLEY. To whom? 

Craig. To you. 

AiNSLEY. The devil he will ! 

Craig. He said he was com'ing here. Inasmuch 
as he's already been here four times in ten days to 
ask for his twenty-five dollars, I am making the 
natural supposition that this is his fifth visit for that 
purpose. 

AiNSLEY. Well, he won't ask me. 

Craig. By which you infer that I'm to get rid of 
him while you hide in the bedroom. 

AiNSLEY. Exactly. 

Craig. For the fifth time ! 

AiNSLEY. With all your experience it won't be 
difficult. 

Craig. Well, I won't do it. 

AiNSLEY. Then what alternative have you to 
offer? 

Craig. Pay him his money. 

AiNSLEY. You couldn't have suggested anything 
more practical ! 

Craig. Why not, you've got it. 

AiNSLEY. Yes, but at the present moment I can 
put it to much better use. 

Craig. And how long do you intend keeping him 
waiting ? 

AiNSLEY. Until I sell my book. 

Craig. You evidently expect Wesley to have a 
long, long life! 

AiNSLEY. Look here, Ed, would you be in a hurry 
to pay a man who's in such a deuce of a hurry to 
collect ? Five times in twelve days ! It's prepos- 
terous, that's what it is! And all for a mere 



PUTTING IT ACROSS 7 

twenty-five dollars ! He doesn't deserve to get paid 
at all ! 

Craig. I doubt whether he'd agree with you. 

AiNSLEY. But you do, so the least you can do is 
help me get rid of him. 

Craig. No, I tell you — I don't know what to say 
to him ! 

AiNSLEY. You've done it four times. 

Craig. That makes it ail the more impossible to 
do it again — there's nothing left to say and he 
wouldn't believe me if there were. 

AiNSLEY. It doesn't matter much what you say 
as long as you know how to say it — and that's your 
profession. Let me remind you of the fact that you 
call yourself an actor. 

Craig. And let me recall to you that you're sup- 
posed to be a writer. Why not furnish the lines you 
want me to act. 

AiNSLEY. Very well, (There is a pause.) 

Craig. I'm waiting. 

AiNSLEY. Let me see. (He pauses.) Tell him — 
tell him Oh, tell him I'm dead ! 

Craig. He's apt to believe me ! 

AiNSLEY. You can make a man believe anything 
if you only say it with enough conviction. 

Craig. You actually believe that? 

AiNSLEY. I don't know about you, but / can. 

Craig. Then let's see you tell Wesley what you 
told me to tell him. 

AiNSLEY. What, that I'm dead? 

Craig. Yes. 

AiNSLEY. You want me to tell AVesley I'm dead? 

Craig. Yes. 

AiNSLEY. All right, I will ! 

Craig. Oh, yes, you can fell him, all right! 

AiNSLEY. And he'll believe me. 

Craig. Believe you crazy ! 



8 PUTTING IT ACROSS 

AiNSLEY. Do you want to bet that he'll believe 
me? 

Craig. Say, have you lost your mind? 

AiNSLEY. Not that I know of — will you bet? 

Craig. Do you actually mean it? 

AiNSLEY. Yes, and you can set the stakes. 

Craig. By George ! if you're enough of an ass to 
do it, I'll take you up ! A hundred dollars ! 

AiNSLEY. (He gets up, crosses the room to Craig 
and holds out his hand) A hundred dollars it is ! 

Craig. Come on, Jack, do you mean to say you'll 
stand there ^and bet me a hundred dollars that you 
yourself can tell a man you're dead and make him 
believe it? 

AiNSLEY. That's what I said and you agreed to 
take me up. 

Craig. (Thinking a moment) Wait a minute, I 
know what you're up to ! You'll use whiskers ! 
(Laughingly.) That's the time you almost got me! 

AiNSLEY. Not a whisker ! Will you shake ? 

Craig. (Getting up to give Ainsley his hand.) 
Yes, you big dumbell ! 

Ainsley. Now here's the dope. From what you 
said, Wesley is due here at any moment. When he 
comes you hop into the bedroom, close the door and 
open your ears. I'll tell him I'm dead, and if he 
walks out of this room believing it you owe me a 
hundred dollars. If he walks out not believing it, I 
owe it to you. That's the agreement. Remember 
it. 

Craig. (Staring at Ainsleyj I've a good mind 
to call the doctor. You'd better lie down. Jack. 

Ainsley. We just shook hands on this, didn't 
we? All you've got to do is listen and keep one 
hand on a, hundred dollar bill ! I'll attend to the 
rest. (Calling.) Yaki! (A pause.) Yaki! 

Yaki. (He enters from the hall; he is a young 



PUTTING IT ACROSS • 9 

Japanese of small stature, wearing dark trousers and 
a white jacket) You call, sir? 

AiNSLEY. Yes, get me a black necktie. 

Yaki. Yes, sir. 

AiNSLEY. And, Yaki 

Yaki. Yes, sir? 

AiNSLEY. Have I still that black band — the one I 
wore to the funeral the other day? 

Yaki. I go see. (^Yaki goes to the bedroom door 
and in trying to open it finds it locked.) 

Yaki. Door locked, sir. 

AiNSLEY. Yes, that's my fault — go 'round by 
the hall. (Yaki leaves the room via the hall and 
turns to the left; Craig sits down again in the same 
chair and Ainsley undoes his tie.) 

Craig. What are you going to do? 

Ainsley. Put on mourning — isn't that the proper 
thing? (He goes to the desk, sits down and hastily 
writes a note.) 

Craig. If you're trying to act like a nut, you're 
certainly getting away with it. 

(There is a pause ; the lock of the bedroom door is 
heard to turn, the door opens and Yaki appears 
with a black necktie, a mourning band and some 
safety pins.) 

Yaki. Here tie, sir. 

fAiNSLEY finishes his note, and gets up, leaving it 
on the desk. Yaki gives him the tie, which he 
puts on zvhile Yaki pins the band on the sleeve 
of his coat. Craig keeps looking at them.) 

Ainsley. Yaki, a gentleman is coming to see me. 
Yaki. Yes, sir. 

Ainsley. I want you to do just as I tell you, do 
you understand? 



io • PUTTING IT ACROSS 

Yaki. Always do — make no mistake. 

AiNSLEY. You're to tell him I'm dead, see? 

Yaki. (Having fastened the hand) Say you dead 
— he go home. 

AiNSLEY. No, no ! I don't want him to go home. 
You're to say this : Mr. Jack Ainsley is dead ; Mr. 
Horace Ainsley, his brother, is inside. 

Yaki. Mr. Jack Ainsley dead. Brother Hollace 
Ainsley, he inside, I say. 

Craig. So that's the game, is it? Well, you may 
have me yet, Jack, you may have me ! (The front- 
door hell rings.) 

Ainsley. There he is now ! Hop into the room, 
Ed, and remember the agreement. Open the door, 
Yaki, and do just as I told you ! Mr. Jack Ainsley 
is dead ! 

Yaki. Yes, sir. Mr. Hollace Ainsley, he inside. 
(He goes to open the door as Craig runs into the 
hedrooni and shuts the door hehind him. ) 

Wesley. (In the hall) Mr. Ainsley in? 

Yaki. (In the hall) Mr. Jack Ainsley dead. Mr. 
Hollace Ainsley, he inside. 

Wesley. (In the hall) Dead! What the devil 
are you talking about? 

Yaki. (In the hall) Mr. Jack Ainsley dead, Mr. 
Hollace 

(He does not finish, for Wesley rushes by him and 
into the room, his, hat on his head. He is about 
forty, somewhat coarse, tastelessly dressed.) 

Wesley. Hello, Jack ! That crazy Jap of yours 
said you were dead! What's the matter with him, 
anyway ? 

Ainsley. (Assuming a solemn tone, which he 
continues to use) The man spoke the truth, my 
friend, my poor brother is — dead. 



PUTTING IT ACROSS ii 

Wesley. (Removing his hat and laying it on the 
table) Say, don't try to kid me! D'you think I'm 
blind? 

AiNSLEY. I can readily understand your mistak- 
ing me for poor Jack. He was the image of me ; 
we were twins. 

Wesley. (Laughing) I'm no foOl, Jack — ^you're 
wasting your time ! 

AiNSLEY. (Indignantly) See here, sir, do you 
suppose I'm in the spirit to joke with you — on this 
day ? My name is Horace Ainsley. Would you have 
the kindness to tell me yours, and what it is you 
desire. 

Wesley. (Protesting) Say 

AiNSLEY. (Interrupting) You heard what I said. 
You can believe me or not ! I asked for your name. 

Wesley. (Puzded) My name? But you don't 
mean that you — I mean, Jack — is really dead? 

AiNSLEY. You can hardly thing, sir, that I repeat 
the fact for my amusement. Perhaps this will con- 
vince you. (He steps to the desk, picks up the note 
and reads.) "Dear Horace: Something has occurred 
which I cannot explain. All I can say is that I can 
no longer face life. By the time you have read this, 
I shall have ended my miserable existence. I only 
ask that you forgive me all that I have done. Good- 
bye ! Jack." 

Wesley. Good God ! And Jack wrote that ? 

AiNSLEY. (Handing him the note) You recognize 
his handwriting, don't you? 

Wesley. (Scrutinizing the paper) It is his hand- 
writing, all right, but — say, I saw Ed Craig on the 
street only half an hour ago and he didn't say a 
word about it ! 

AiNSLEY. Of course not. He didn't know about 
it then. He was out of town over night and was just 
on his way here when you met him. 



12 PUTTING IT ACROSS 

Wesley. Where's he now? 

AiNSLEY. Wandering aimlessly, I suppose. He 
was so shocked at the news that he ran right out 
of the house. His grief is exceeded only by mine. 

Wesley. Jack never told me he had a brother. 

AiNSLEY. (With great sadness as he sits down) 
No — I don't suppose he did. You see, there was a 
quarrel, years ago. We each went our own way. I 
have never seen him since. This morning he sent 
for me and when I came, I found — that. (He points 
to the letter zvhich Wesley still holds in his hand.) 

Wesley. Where is the — body? (He lays the let- 
ter on the table and sits down.) 

AiNSLEY. (Softly) God only knows ! He prob- 
ably went off somewhere to end his life. I notified 
the police and hope to hear from them at any mo- 
ment. That is why I am waiting here. 

Wesley. Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Ainsley — I'm 
mighty sorry. 

AiNSLEY. Thank you, sir, I appreciate it. (After 
a pause.) It all came so suddenly, I — I can hardly 
realize it myself. 

Wesley. (After staring at Ainsley a moment) 
Mr. Ainsley, I never saw such a resem.blance — never 
in my life ! You know, it's hard to believe ! 

Ainsley. There are hundreds of similar cases — I 
know of several myself where I can never tell one 
brother from the other. But to think that Jack and 
I should have lived apart like this — that's what 
hurts ! And that he should have come to such an 
end! (After a pause.) Is there anything more I 
can do for you? 

Wesley. (With hesitation) Well — the truth of 
the matter is that — that Jack owed me a — a lit- 
tle r (He interrupts himself.) But of course — 

under the circumstances' — I don't care to mention it. 

Ainsley. I'll assume all his debts, of course. 



PUTTING IT ACROSS 13 

Wesley. Oh, no ! I couldn't think of it ! By no 
means ! (^Yaki appears in the hall and softly closes 
the French doors.) 

AiNSLEY. It's not more than right that I should. 
How much was the — the debt? 

Wesley. Why — er — twenty-five dollars. 

AiNSLEY. Oh, a mere trifle ! But let me see 

(He thinks a moment.) I don't happen to have that 
amount with me (He looks towards the bed- 
room door.) Though I do expect a hundred dollars 

very shortly — and I think (He puts his hand in 

the inside of pocket of his coat.) Yes, to be sure, 
I forgot my check-book again. Very foolish of me 
— I'll send you a check when I get home. Will that 
be all right? 

Wesley. (Very well pleased) O. K. Here's my 
name and address. (He gives Ainsley a visiting 
card which he takes from his pocket.) 

Atnsley. (Getting up as he looks at the card) 
Well, I'm glad to have met you, Mr. Wesley, and 
— (more solemn than ever) — I'm sorry it had to be 
under such unfortunate circumstances. I hope that 
some day we shall (The front-door hell rings.) 

Wesley. Maybe that's the police ! I sure would 
like to hear what they say ! 

AiNSLEY. (Nervously) I hardly think it's the 
police, already. (He picks up Wesley's hat.) I 
hope to see you again, Mr. 

Yaki, (Opening the French doors) Strange gen- 
tleman. He say want speak with Mr. Jack Ainsley. 
I say Mr. Jack Ainsley dead ; Mr. Hollace Ainsley, 
he inside. He say want speak with Mr. Hollace 
Ainsley. 

Ainsley. (Still more ill at ease) Show him in. 

Wesley. Perhaps the body's been found ! 

Ainsley. In that case the gentleman outside 
would hardly have asked to see my brother. 



14 PUTTING IT ACROSS 

(^Yaki ushers in the gentleman and retires. The 
newcomer is about fifty-five. He has gray hair, 
moustache and heard. His clothes are dark and 
dignified; his manner is stately.) 

The Gentleman. (To Ainsleyj Mr. Horace 
Ainsley ? 

Ainsley. (Reluctantly) Why, yes — I am — 
Horace Ainsley. 

The Gentleman. I am Mr. Walker — Mr. F. 
Pomeroy Walker, attorney at law, Jefferson City, 
Missouri. 

Ainsley. (Bowing) Pleased to meet you, Mr. 
Walker. (He points to Wesley. J This is Mr. 
Wesley. 

Wesley. (Bozving) Glad to know you. 

Walker. (To WesleyJ How do you do. (To 
Jack.j Mr. Ainsley, I am very much shocked to 
learn of your brother's death. I have never had the 
pleasure of knowing him. but it was to see him that 
I came all the way from Jefferson City. 

Ainsley. Indeed ! Won't you sit down ? (He 
sits Wesley's hat hack on the table. Walker sits 
down.) 

Wesley. Well, I guess I'll be going. 

Walker. No, no, please ! Don't let me drive you 
away ! What I have to say will take but a moment ! 

Ainsley. (Irritated) Yes, yes, do stav, Mr. Wes- 
ley ! 

Wesley. (Flattered and pleased) Well — if you 
insist. (He sits down at the desk, while Ainsley 
takes the easy-chair.) 

Walker. I come with rather startling news, Mr. 
Ainsley, but I feel that this is a somewhat inoppor- 
tune moment to deliver it. 

Ainsley. (Glancing at Wesleyj Yes, indeed, 
Mr. Walker, most inopportune. 



PUTTING IT ACROSS 15 

Walker. But then I've come so far, you know. 

AiNSLEY. Yes, of course, I realize that. 

Walker. Well — as I've said— I've come so far 

that— much as it grieves me— I shall be obliged to 
add to your already great sorrow. 

AiNSLEY. By all means ! That is— don't hesitate. 

Walker. (Solemnly) Mr. Ainsley, your uncle 

is — dead. 

W^ESLEY. Another one! 

AiNSLEY. You can't mean it ! 

Walker. Unfortunately, it is— true. Your Uncle 
Joseph Ainsley of Jefferson City, Missouri. 

AiNSLEY. Joseph Ainsley dead! 

Walker. (Softly as he bows his head) Yes. 

AiNSLEY. But I didn't know he was alive! I 
never heard of him ! 

Walker. No, I suppose not. You see, he and 
your father quarrelled many years ago and each went 
his own way. That is why you never heard of him. 
As a matter of fact, your dear uncle never spoke of 
you. Only your poor brother was mentioned in the 

will. 

AiNSLEY. (More interested) The will ! 

Walker. Yes. On his death-bed your uncle re- 
pented the quarrel and in order to atone for sorne- 
thing he had done to your father he left his entire 
estate to your brother. 

^^^ESLEY. Say, Mr. Walker, if you'd have corne a 
little earlier, he never would have committed suicide. 

Walker. Suicide! What a pity! What a 
tragedy! You see, my train was somewhat late. 
Perhaps, if I hadn't missed connections at Peoria — 

AiNSLEY. Pardon me for interrupting, but just 
how much did my uncle leave me — that is to say, my 
brother ? 

Walker. The estate amounts to one hundred 
thousand dollars. 



i6 PUTTING IT ACROSS 
Wesley. And to think that he 



AiNSLEY. (Interrupting with joyful surprise) A 
hundred thousand dollars ! 

Walker. Which — since your brother is dead — 
goes to the institutions of charity in Jefferson City. 

AiNSLEY. That's too bad. 

Walker. I'm sorry, but those are the provisions 
of the will. 

AiNSLEY. I mean that it's too bad for the insti- 
tutions. 

Walker. (Surprised) Why do you say that? 

AiNSLEY. Because those institutions are going to 
be a hundred thousand dollars poorer than they 
might have been 

Walker. (Interrupting with surprise) Than 
they might have been ! 

AiNSLEY. If Jack Ainsley were really dead! 

Walker. Really dead! 

AiNSLEY. Yes, I am Jack Ainsley ! 

Wesley. What the hell ! 

Walker. (Dumbfounded) You! /ac^ Ainsley ! 

AiNSLEY. Yes. 

Walker. No ! 

AiNSLEY. Don't you suppose I know who I am. 

Wesley. Be damned if 7 do ! 

Walker. You said you were Horace Ainsley ! 
Your man said your brother is dead ! 

AiNSLEY. We were only fooling. I have no 
brother. 

Walker. Evidently not, if he's dead! 

AiNSLEY. I mean, I never had one. 

Walker. You mean that there never was any 
Jack Ainsley? 

Wesley. Sure there was ! I lent him twenty-five 
dollars ! 

AiNSLEY. There never was any Horace Ainsley-— 
that's what I mean! 



PUTTING IT ACROSS 17 

Walker. (Indignantly) Wait a moment, Mr. 
Ainsley, I think I begin to see your game, but it 
won't do ! 

Ainsley, My game? 

Walker. Yes, trying to assume the personality 
of your dead brother in order to obtain your uncle's 
estate! A clever trick, indeed, but not too clever 
for me! I am a lawyer, Mr. Ainsley, and I am 
capable of recognizing fraud when I see it. (He 
gets up.) I think there is- nothing more to be said! 

Ainsley. (Frantically, as he gets up) But it's 
all a joke — a bet! I bet my roommate that I could 
make Wesley believe I was dead and so I assumed 
the fictitious name of Horace Ainsley! Don't you 
see? 

Walker. A pretty story, indeed. Why didn't you 
say that before you heard of the hundred thousand 
dollars ? 

Wesley. Yes, how about that? 
Ainsley. Because the agreement was that Wes- 
ley had to leave the room believing I was dead and 
I didn't want to tell you who I was until he had 
gone! (Pleading.) You believe me, Gus, don't you? 
Wesley. Hell ! I don't know what to believe ! 
Ainsley. I can prove I'm Jack Ainsley! 
. Walker. (Ironically) I should be delighted to 
have you do so. 

Ainsley. (To WesleyJ Two weeks ago last 
night we saw "Love in a Cottage," and sat in seats 
103 and io5j^ Does that prove it? 

Wesley. (Getting up and reaching for his hat) 
You're damn right it does ! You've put it over on 
me once, but you'll never do it again ! Except for 
that twenty-five dollars you owe me, you and I are 
through ! (He makes a hasty exit.) 

Ainsley. (After the door has slammed behind 



i8 PUTTING IT ACROSS 

him) Well, Mr. Walker, I suppose that entitles 
me to a hundred thousand dollars. 

Walker. Quite the contrary, my dear Mr. Ains- 
ley. (He tears off zvig, heard and moustache , re- 
vealing himself as Craig, j That entitles me to one 
hundred dollars. The only thing that's coming to 
you is a vote of thanks for teaching me how to put 
it across ! 



CURTAIN 



Golden Days 



A comedy of youth, in four acts, by Sidney Toler and 
Marion Short, 7 males, 10 females. Three interior 
scenes. Costumes modern. Plays 2y2 hours. 

"Golden Days" is a play with all the charm of youth. 
It enjoyed a run of sixteen weeks in Chicag-o with 
Patricia Collinge in the leading role, and was then 
brought to the" Gaietj^ Theatre, New York, with Helen 
Hayes in the part of "Mary Anne." Price, 75 cents. 

Come Out of the Kitchen 

A charming, comedy in 3 acts, adapted by A. E. Thomas 
frorh the story of the same name by Alice Duer Miller. 6 
males, 5 females. Three interior scenes. Costumes, 
modern. Plays 2y2 hours. . 

"Come Out of the Kitchen," witli Ruth Chatterton in 
the leading role, made a notable success on its produc- 
tion b3^ Henry Miller at the Cohan Theatre, New York. 
It was also a great success at the. Strand Theatre, Lon- 
dOB. A. most ingenious and entertaining comedy, and 
we strongly recommend it for amateur production. 

Price. 75 cents 

His Majesty Bunker Bean 

A farcical comedy in four acts. By Lee Wilson Dodd. 
from the novel by Harry Leon Wilson. 12 nnales, 6 
females. Four interior scenes. Costumes, modern, Plays 
2% hours. Those who have laug-hed Immoderately at 
Harry Leon Wilson's story will be greatly amused by 
the play, which tells the story of a cowed and cred- 
ulous youth who became kingly ^vhen he was tricked 
Into believing himself a reincarnation of Napoleon. "His 
Majesty Bunker Bean," with Taylor Holmes in the title 
role, was brought to the Astor Theatre, New York, 
after a i-un of 25 weeks in Chicago. A delightful and 
wholesome farce comedy with no dull moments. 

- Price, 75 cents 



A Full House 



A farcical comedy in three acts. By Fred Jackson, 
7 males, 7 females. One interior scene. Modern cos- 
tumes. Plays 2% hours. This newest and funniest of 
all farces was written by Fred Jackson, the well-known 
short story writer, and is backed up by the prestige 
of an impressive New York success and the promise of 
unlimited fun presented in the most attractive form. 
A cleverer farce has not been seen for many a long 
day. "A Full House" is a house full of laughs, 

^ Price, 75 cents 

(The AboA'p Are Subjeet t« Royalty WHien Prodiicecl) 

S AMI EL, FRENCH, 2.S-30 ^Vest 3Sth Street, New York City 
Xcw iijul Explicit De»erl|>tlve Catalosme Mailed Q 
Free o:i Reque.st 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



Clarenc 




A comedy in four acts by Booth Tarkington, author 
of "The Man From Home," "Penrod," "The Country 
Cousin," etc. 5 males, 5 females. Two interior scenes. 
Costumes, modern. Plays 21/2 hours. 

Clarence has no medals, no shoulders bars, no great 
accomplishment. One 01 the "five million," he served 
where he was sent — though it was no further than Texas. 
As an entomologist he found — on this side of the oc^an— 
no field for his specialty in the great vv^ar. So they set 
him to driving mules. 

Now, reduced to ■ civil life and seeking a job, he finds 
a position in the home of one, AVheeler, a wtalthy Eng- 
elwood man with a family. And because he'd "been m 
the army" he becomes guide, philosopher and friend to 
the members of that same agitated and distracted family 
sroup. Clarence's position is an anomolous one. He 
Piends the bathroom plumbing, he tunes the piano, he 
types — oft" stage— he plays the saxophone. And around 
him revolves such a group of characters as only Booth 
Tarkington could offer. It is a real American comedy; 
and the audience ripples with appreciative and delighted 
laughter. 

Those marvelous young people, Cora and Bobby Wheel- 
er are portrait sketches warranted to appeal to every 
one but the originals. Their truth will be lost On- the 
"Flapper" and the "prep" school youth, but to their par- 
ents and guardians, to all. indeed, who have emerged 
from the serious, self-conscious, period of adolescence, 
they will be an enduring joy. 

"Clarence" is a real delight. It is as American as 
"Plucklebftrrv Finn" or pumpkin pie. It is a^ delight- 
ful as anv native comedy which has tried to lure the 
laughter of this country in the last ten seasons 

Price, 75 cents. 

Three Live Ghosts 

A comedy in three acts by Frederick Isham and Max 
Marcin. 6 males, 4 females (2 policemen). One interior 
scene stands throughout the three acts. Costum.es, mo- 
dern. Plays 21/2" hours. 

"Three Live Ghosts" is brim full of fun and humor and- 
i^ ^ure to keep audiences in gales of laughter. The 
New York critics described it as the most ingenious 
and amusing comedy of the season and genuinely ?nd 
heartilv funny. It played a full season in Nevi- i ork 
and then toured the big cities. A lively comedy of merit 
we can strongly reeomrhend for amateur production. 

Price, 75 cents, 

(The Abov«» Are Siibieot fo Royalty When Produced) 

S AMI EL FREXCH, 2S-30 AVest 3Stli Street, Xew York City 

XeAV and Explicit Deser!i>tive Catalogue Mailed ^ 
Free «:i Request 



